


And Fake Baby Makes Three

by theotherpope



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Gen, Pure Crack, and coming up with the most ridiculous situation for these bickering kids, brief mentions of violence, i had a lot of fun writing this, mainly from shaw, some bad language!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2019-05-15 01:25:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14781002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theotherpope/pseuds/theotherpope
Summary: Prompt for Exchange of Interest.Harold sends John and Shaw to a birthing class to protect a number - that's if they can stop sniping at one another long enough to do their job.(All the bickering and crack you might expect)





	And Fake Baby Makes Three

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ZaccRiseC3P](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZaccRiseC3P/gifts).



> Written as a prompt for ZaccRiseC3P on Exchange of Interest:
> 
> "The Mayhem Twins! I love their brother/sister dynamic so a story that elaborated on that would be awesome! I know that’s vague because that’s basically just their relationship, but something as harmless as them bickering over something meaningless (like a video game or something) to something as dangerous as one of them almost getting killed would be epic!"
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

“This is stupid.”

They were in the subway and Harold had taken refuge at his computer. He hoped the many monitors he had ducked behind at his station might somehow slow Shaw down if she tried to follow through on her earlier threat to force his keyboard into a whole slew of places they certainly did not belong, though he had his doubts about the last one she had growled out at him.

He might not be their resident doctor, but Harold was confident the human body simply wouldn’t _allow_ for that kind of intrusion.

(Not that he was going to say that out loud. The last thing he wanted was to incite Shaw to deem a demonstration necessary.)

“I wouldn’t be so quick to jump to that conclusion, Miss Shaw,” Harold said, then tacked on quickly when she narrowed her eyes his way, “I’m only suggesting you be more open to the idea. Surely you came across this during your time as an Intern?”

Shaw wasn’t having it. She rounded the safety of Harold’s monitors and leaned over the desk, jabbing a finger at him. “If you’re so in love with the idea, why don’t _you_ wear it!”

Harold didn’t quite know how to answer that. Shaw continued to stare at him, waiting, and he looked across helplessly to John for backup. What was he supposed to say? They all knew _why_ Harold couldn’t wear it, but explaining basic biology to an irate ex-government assassin who could likely kill Harold a hundred different ways, especially with her in such close proximity, seemed like an exponentially bad idea.

“…it isn’t a matter of what I _want_ to do,” he said carefully, very aware of the subtle tick to Shaw’s jaw now she was towering over him. “But I can’t imagine I would make a very convincing mother-to-be.”

“Besides,” John finally spoke up from where he stood with Bear, scratching the dog’s ears and not even bothering to hide his amusement. “I think it suits you. I can see you glowing from here, momma bear.”

“You know what would suit you?” she shot back, her voice dangerously low. “My fist connecting with your face.”

“Careful, Shaw. Stress can affect both mom and baby.”

Shaw fumbled with the straps and tore off the fake baby bump. It went hurtling across the room and would have been on target for John’s face if he hadn’t shifted at the last second for it to fly past his head.

“Bear, hier!” Harold commanded firmly, and Bear went over obediently from where he had started investigating the baby bump on the floor and nudging it with his nose.

It wouldn’t hurt to have Bear by his side. John had never goaded Sameen to the point of no return, but Harold wanted someone in his corner anyway, even if that someone was the dog.

No, _especially_ if that someone was the dog. Shaw wouldn’t try anything if Harold was behind Bear.

Probably.

…Maybe.

It was worth running that simulation through his computer to check probable outcomes for future reference.

“I don’t understand why it has to be me,” Shaw continued to complain. “Get Root to wear it. She’s all about finding stupid costumes for her covers, she’d go crazy for it.”

“Miss Groves is away on an errand for the Machine." Root had been vague about her location and Harold only ever got an evasive non-answer in return for any questions he asked about it, so he’d simply stopped asking. There were other ways to find the truth. “Trust me, this isn’t an ideal situation for any of us.”

“Seems like a pretty fine situation from where you’re sitting,” Shaw muttered to him, though she seemed more resigned to the reality of having to play her role now she couldn’t pass it on to Root. Harold sent her what he hoped was a sympathetic smile, even if he wasn’t sure how appreciated it might be. Maybe he could cheer her up another way.

“Not to worry,” he said, “You won’t be doing this alone. You’ll have back-up.”

“A Lionel cub?” John was smiling fully now. He was taking a lot of joy from Shaw’s distaste for her latest cover, much to her irritation. He could at least try to keep his amusement to himself, even if it were for Harold’s sake. “I didn’t think I’d ever say it, but I hope the baby gets Fusco’s personality.”

Harold couldn’t quite hide the tiny twitch of his lips. John deserved what was coming for him, he truly did, and Harold was going to enjoy every second of the reveal. He spun slow in his chair and held up an enrolment form for a lamaze class, the names _Sameen Grey_ and _John Riley_ printed clear and bold.

“Actually, Mr Reese,” he said, “Congratulations. You’re going to be a father.”

John’s expression dropped and Shaw looked a fraction happier, though Harold couldn’t really be sure. She looked less likely to strangle him with his computer cables, at least, so he was taking that as a positive. Harold was taking all the small victories he could get at the moment.

“Fine,” Shaw said, and she strolled over to John with a predatory smile. Not even bothering to be sneaky about it, she reached into his jacket and swiped his wallet, pulling out a handful of green bills. “But I’ve got a feeling this is gonna be an expensive pregnancy for my baby daddy. I’ve got a craving for some sirloin steak; the really, really expensive kind.”

John took the wallet back when she slapped it against his chest and he sent Harold a wounded look from across the subway. “Finch. Why?”

Harold lifted his eyebrows and smiled while Shaw stalked off, no doubt to spend John’s money on enough food to feed a family of twelve. “Why else?” he asked, turning to his computer with an easy swing. “For the number, of course.”

He heard John grumble and skulk away after Shaw. Only when he was sure he was alone, Harold looked down at Bear and patted the dog’s head affectionately. “Maybe it’ll be twins,” he said as he passed down a treat. “They couldn’t possibly cause any more mayhem than the pair we already have.”

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

Shaw was going to kill someone.

That someone was likely going to be their number. It would upset Finch, but a lot of things upset Finch, and Shaw had saved more than enough lives to cancel this one out.

She was owed it, really. It all came down to simple math.

“Breathing is an important part of labour,” an airy, saccharine voice announced to the small group, the same voice that had been grating at Shaw for the past fifteen minutes. Surely it had been longer than that?

“Now, birthing partners, you’re going to be a big part of this.” The woman smiled to everyone in the class, a dozen people in all. To her credit, she barely faltered when she met Shaw’s murderous gaze, though she did have twenty years of handling raging pregnancy hormones to back her up. Alice Walker worked four days a week teaching her classes. She went to the same coffee shop every morning for the same order, always paid 25% on her tip and had never incurred so much as a parking ticket.

Finch had also discovered how she spent her weekends hosting high stake poker matches from her basement, and it suddenly became clear why her number had come up.

“Partners, place your hands on your expectant momma’s bump,” Alice beamed, “And we’re going to start with some belly breathing. Everybody find a comfortable position.”

Shaw felt movement behind her and tensed up. Without looking, she caught hold of the hand that was moving to hover over her fake bump and trapped it in a gooseneck hold. “Don’t,” she hissed between her teeth. “Don’t even think about it.”

“It’s for the class,” John mumbled back to her. “People will notice if we don’t play along.”

“Go ahead and play along,” she offered, “See how many fingers I break when you do.”

Finch’s voice came over their shared communications. “John. I’ve traced the deposit Ian Perry made last night. It was as we suspected.”

Shaw released John’s hand and tilted her head to show she was listening when he answered. “A hit?”

“Indeed.” The ever familiar sound of Finch tapping away at his keyboard rung through Shaw’s ears. “It looks as if Mr Perry has sought out the services of the Trinitarios. If he can’t get his money back, then he’ll take the next best thing and kill the woman he blames for his depleted funds.”

It made Shaw scoff. “The Trinitarios? They’re amateurs.”

“Which means they won’t care who else they hurt along the way,” John added. He always had to kill the mood.

Their conversation came to an abrupt stop when Alice looked over to them from her place with the group. “Is everyone good over there?”

“We’re fine,” John said. His smile was more reassuring that Shaw’s, who looked so strained that she might as well have been sitting on a nail. “We’re just a little nervous.”

“It’s perfectly naturally to feel like that, but remember, there’s no pressure here! We’re all together and we’re all learning. This is about becoming a team.” Several other couples voiced their agreement and chuckled amongst themselves, and Shaw had the niggling compulsion to jump up and punch them in their condescending faces.

Alice walked over and rolled an exercise ball their way. “Like I said,” she started soothingly, taking a seat on the ball and radiating composure, “We’ll do this together. John, would you join me?”

John balked.

“Go on, honey.” Shaw shoved him toward their number. She could have been gentler, but why bother, he could handle it. “I’d feel _so_ much more at ease if you showed me with Alice first.”

In his crisp suit and wearing an uncomfortable expression, John sat on the floor between Alice’s parted legs while Shaw raised her eyebrows at him.

“Don’t forget to open up your legs,” she added helpfully, “You know, to get used to the position when you’re in labour. Isn’t that right, Alice?”

“Exactly! Well done, Sameen,” Alice scooted in close to John and seemed genuinely thrilled that Shaw was finally participating in the class. She threaded her arms under John’s for support and guided him to lean back against her. “Wider, John. It’ll alleviate pelvic pressure. Now, take my hands.”

He held onto Alice’s hands and narrowed his eyes at Shaw’s smirk. He deserved it after all the crap he was pulling before. Payback was a bitch.

“Here we go! I want everybody joining in – we’ll breathe in through our nose at the peak of contraction, then exhale with volume through our mouth. Remember those deep sounds we were practicing earlier; I want to hear them from everyone. Okay, three breaths. Ready…and _in_.”

There had to be a camera in here somewhere. “Finch,” Shaw murmured. “I’m going to want a copy of this when we get back to the subway.”

“Do you really think it appropriate?”

“Finch,” she said again, speaking slow and low to drive her point home. “ _You owe me._ ”

She needed this footage. Watching John breath like an asphyxiated baboon in the arms of a middle aged woman was just about the best damn thing Shaw had ever witnessed.

There was silence on the other end for a moment before Finch agreed. “…I’ll see what I can do.”

“Good, and again, _breathe_ ,” Alice instructed, and John avoided Shaw’s eyes altogether when he let out a deep hum on his exhale.

Not good enough.

“Louder,” Shaw stage-whispered to John. His glare cut across the small distance between them and Shaw simply lifted an eyebrow up in return, as if to ask what exactly he was going to do about it.

 _Jack-shit_ , that was what he was going to do. Nothing except wheeze in Alice’s arms and glare at Shaw with his legs splayed open.

“And our final exhale,” Alice announced to the class. They all breathed out as one and then turned to look at each other with proud smiles, as if they’d achieved something more than _breathing._

And now she wanted to kill someone again. Great.

Knowing she was in dire need of a distraction, Shaw spoke up before Alice could continue with the class. “Make him kneel over like he’s in labour!” she called over. She only got confused frowns looking back at her (except John – John’s expression was carefully neutral, which meant he was loathing every second).

“I mean…” Shaw tried again with what she hoped was a demure smile, “I would really appreciate a demonstration of labour positions, and I read that kneeling helps with back pain. It would be _so_ comforting to see that John understands _exactly_ what I need.”

Alice looked at the eager faces of her class. “I was going to move onto this later in our hour together…but I suppose there’s no harm in bringing it to everyone’s attention now.”

“No harm at all,” Shaw agreed, and she could almost hear the unspoken comment John was signalling to her with his eyes. _No harm at all…except to Shaw when he was finally free from dealing with this number._

Whatever. Shaw could take him.

“John, if you would,” Alice prompted him with a gentle tap to his shoulders. “We’ll start with the squat…- “

The door burst open right as Finch called out a warning in their ears, but he was drowned out when shots rang out around the class.

“Nobody move!”

Four masked figures rushed in with guns drawn and voices raised, shouting for everybody to shut up and sit down – the Trinitarios, no doubt. Their number scrambled for cover with the rest of the class, hiding behind plant pots and baby blankets and anything else they could find.

It had to be the first time Shaw had been genuinely disappointed to see a gun drawn on her. Shooting some knucklehead in the kneecaps was a typical Thursday night, but watching John squat and ready to imitate giving birth was only ever going to happen once.

“Fuckers,” she muttered under her breath. She’d shoot both kneecaps for that.

Neither her nor John were in a great position to fight back on the floor, but that didn’t mean they were at a disadvantage here. One look at the way these guys were waving their guns around was enough of a hint to the kind of competency they were dealing with.

Shaw only needed to share a brief look with John before they were moving in sync - they had this down to a fine art by this point. John pulled out his gun right as Shaw covered him by rocking back and kicking one of the abandoned exercise balls directly into the lead gunman’s face. He went down in a flail of limbs and the distraction was enough to draw the attention of his friends.

“Don’t be such a baby,” John quipped as he delivered a bullet to the kneecap of their second gunman. It earned an eye roll from Shaw.

“That’s what you’re going for? A baby gag?” she complained as they both rolled for better cover behind a crib Alice had set up for a class demonstration. “Don’t you think it’s a little on the nose?”

John shrugged. “We have a running theme here. Did you have something better?”

“Anything is better than that,” she said, pulling off the fake bump and tearing it apart with her hands. She pulled her own gun from amongst the foam and cocked it back with a sly smirk. “Did somebody call for the infantry?”

Shaw waited.

Nothing.

“Infantry,” she tried again. The gunmen had taken to shooting at them around the crib now after deciding she and John were threats, but there were more pressing matters to deal with, such as John’s lack of appreciation for quality comedy. “Like _infant._ ”

“Oh. Right,” John nodded and took advantage of a pause in the shooting to take out another kneecap. Two to go. “I get it.”

“It’s not funny if I have to explain it.”

“If you have to explain it, then maybe it wasn’t funny at all.”

Shaw spared him a dirty look before she ducked down beneath the crib to take a shot at some kneecaps of her own. Another one down.

“Don’t make me shoot you, John,” she said while he covered her back. “It was funny. You know it was funny.”

“Nobody laughed.”

Shaw shot another kneecap before snapping back to John, “Because nobody heard it. They would have laughed if they’d heard it.”

“I heard it. I didn’t laugh. Did you laugh, Finch?”

There was silence on the line.

Finch wasn’t getting out of it that easily. “ _Well?_ ” demanded Shaw.

“…There was a lot of static…the gun fire interfering with our connection, most likely, so maybe I simply missed it…”

John looked smug and offered Shaw a shrug with his patented crooked smile.

“Don’t blame my good joke because of your shitty sense of humour,” Shaw complained. “…Root would have laughed.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, “But Root’s crazy.”

 _Shit_. He had a point.

Shaw ignored him and checked under the crib again, counting down the bodies groaning and crying across the room. “Huh.” She counted again. “I think we’ve run out of kneecaps.”

It would explain why the shooting had stopped, though they’d been a little too preoccupied to notice. John stood and scanned the room before putting his gun away with Shaw close behind. Alice was cowering behind a chair – whatever she’d been expecting from her lamaze class today, it wasn’t this.

“You should call it quits on the poker night,” Shaw suggested, kicking a gun away from the outstretched hand of one of the masked men. She stood on his hand and dug her heel into his knuckles, feeling a throb of satisfaction when something cracked. “Or don’t. It doesn’t bother me who I shoot.”

John reached down to help Alice to her feet. He had that dopey smile that seemed to charm everyone they came across, even if Shaw couldn’t understand _why_ , and he delivered what had to be the most cringe-inducing pun Shaw had ever heard him utter in his usual gravelly tone.

“ _Nobody puts baby in the corner_.”

A few timid laughs drifted from around the room, including from Alice, and Shaw even heard Finch muffle a chuckle over their comms. John looked to Shaw with a barely concealed triumphant smile and she scowled.

She should have killed their goddamn number.


End file.
